Grandfather's Clock

My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf,So it stood ninety years on the floor.It was taller by half than the old man himself,Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,And was always his treasure and pride;But it stopped, short, never to go againWhen the old man died.

Chorus

Ninety years without slumbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,His life seconds numbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,It stopped, short, never to go again, when the old man died.

In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,Many hours had he spent as a boy;And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to knowAnd to share both his grief and his joy.For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the doorWith a blooming and beautiful bride.But it stopped, short, never to go againWhen the old man died.

My grandfather said that of those he could hire,Not a servant so faithful he found;For it wasted no time, and had but one desire:At the close of each week to be wound.And it kept in its place, not a frown upon its face,And its hands never hung by its side.But it stopped, short, never to go againWhen the old man died.

It rang in alarm in the dead of the night,An alarm that for years had been dumb.And we knew that his spirit was plumbing its flight,That his hour of departure had come.Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,As we silently stood by his sideBut it stopped, short, never to go againWhen the old man died.